Happy New Year
by Molinita
Summary: Wilson and House spend New Year's Eve together. Do things really change with the beginning of a new year? HouseWilson
1. Chapter 1

**Happy New Year

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Disclaimer: Just the usual rambling: I don't own House or Wilson, so please don't sue.  
Again: I am no native English speaker. I apologize in advance for all mistakes. I learned it in school about a lifetime ago. :)  
There might be one or two additional chapters to this one in the future, I'm not sure yet. We'll see.  
Please review.

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The snow fell thick. Temperatures had gone up a little and the snowflakes, big and fluffy like cottonballs, fell silently and lazily to the ground.

Gregory House looked out of his large office window. The balcony was covered in a white cloud of snow. Earlier today he had been out there, talking to Wilson, both had their winter coats pulled up to their chins, their faces buried in the soft wool of their scarfs.

The reddened face and the Snowflakes that covered Wilson's hair like powdered sugar had made House smile. Not an outward smirk, but a little inner twitch of happiness that had chased away the feeling of being miserable for a few moments. They had been standing out there until their shoes were soaking wet and their feet were numb from the cold.

Now the snow had covered their footprints, giving the balcony and its icy carpet back the looks of an undiscovered hideaway.

He had not turned on the lights when he came into his office after a brief meeting with his ducklings. The reflections from the bright white snow now dipped the room into a damp, greyish light that felt almost unreal.

House took a deep breath and turned away from the window. It was time to head home.

The hospital was all quiet. When House followed the long corridor to the elevators, the humming of the fluorescent lamps and the thud of his cane were the only noises around. Even down in the hall, clinic staff was down to a minimum.  
It was New Year's eve and most doctors and nurses were home with there families or out to see the new year in with a big party.

House did not say goodbye to anyone. He let the doors swing shut behind him and carefully walked across the slippery parking lot to his car.

Wilson had offered to cook. He had not wanted to spend the evening alone at his hotel room and House had agreed – partly because he did Wilson a favor and partly because he felt the need for Wilson's company tonight. Not that he would actually admit it loudly, but he enjoyed the presence of Wilson – most of the times.

The apartment was empty and House felt reluctant to go in. He had given Wilson a head start after work to buy food and get the movies and he had hoped to find Wilson already in the kitchen. With a sigh he closed the door behind him and threw his coat onto the sofa. The melting snowflakes dripped fron the sleeves and the collar, soaking the fabric of the sofa, but House didn't care.

He looked around the room. Everything was so familiar, but it seemed too quiet and deserted tonight. With a few steps he made it to the stereo to turn the music on. The soft piano of an old jazzy tune filled the room, but House still felt the emptiness. He turned the volume up a little, fumbled for his Vicodin bottle and swallowed a pill.

The cold on his forehead felt good and soothing when he leaned his head against the wall. He waited a few minutes for the drug to kick in. The pain in his leg faded and when he heard the front door open, the empty feeling in his stomach disappeared as well.

"You're alright?" Wilson cast him a worried look over the two paper bags filled with groceries that he carried.

"Leg," House said shortly and pointed to his right thigh.

Wilson nodded, but didn't seem to be satisfied with the answer. He decided to let it rest anyway and went to the kitchen.

"I got some fresh pasta and everything we need for a gorgonzola sauce. Is that alright for you?"

"Do I have a choice?" House followed Wilson into the kitchen. He threw a distrustful look at the cheese and the pasta Wilson had draped on the counter.

"No." With a swift movement Wilson put away the paper bags and turned to the variety of gourmet food.

"We'll have shrimp salad first, pasta will be ready very fast, I have to make the sauce first," he was talking more to himself then to House and his voice trailed off. He started to pull out pots and bowls, concentrating on the dinner.

"Get out of the way," Wilson said softly and shooed House out of the kitchen.

House pouted, but limbed back into the living room and let himself fall on the sofa. The sudden movement in the cushions let a spray of water rain all over him. He cast his wet coat an angry look, pushed himself up from the sofa again and took it to the rack.

His coat next to Wilson's seemed familiar and like so many times before House silently admitted to himself that he missed Wilson living here. The sleeve of Wilson's coat stuck to the back of his own, as if to keep it from falling down.

A new year was about to start and although House did not believe that the change of the calendar would change things, it still couldn't hurt to be a little nicer to Wilson. Maybe his friend would move back in with him. His food was pretty good after all.

There was no doubt that Wilson was his best friend and the most important human being in House's life, even if there weren't many relevant things in his life.

And when Wilson had listed his most important things, the list hasn't been very long, either. His job and this friendship. House had been on the second – and last – place, but considering that Wilson had just had sacrificed his job for their friendship back then, House was pretty confident, that actually he sported first place after all.

This put House in the comfortable position to be able to use his friend and to mock and annoy him, knowing Wilson would not leave.

A loud clatter in the kitchen made House look up.

"You break it, you pay for it!" he shouted and went – or rather hobbled – to see what had happened.

Wilson did not answer, but when House came into the kitchen, he was kneeling on the floor, wiping up an unpleasant mass of white and blue slime.

"Eww." House drew a distorted face. "Ate already and spit it out again?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and tried to look annoyed, but he was close to tears and quickly turned his face away from House.

"Oh, come on. No need to flood the kitchen." House felt uncomfortable when Wilson became all emotional.

"I ruined our dinner, " Wilson said and hated himself for the whining tone in his voice.

"We could still order Chinese food. I already told you this afternoon, I'd prefer cat and dog sweet-sour in soy sauce. Steve McQueen loves the cat meat. Makes him feel all triumphant."

Wilson couldn't help but smile and nodded. "We still have the shrimp salad."

"Get going then," House demanded. "I am hungry." He went back to the livingroom, leaving Wilson gaping in frustration.

"I still have to prepare the dessert," Wilson complained. "Couldn't you just call them?"

"You offered to provide the food. You call." House snuggled into the dry side of the sofa and picked up the remote to turn on the tv. He heard Wilson come into the room to pick up the phone, but he didn't turn around. He could imagine his friend's reproachful look behind his back and grinned at the thought.

When Wilson went back into the kitchen, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the soothing background noises of some tv show and the soft clattering of pots and china in the kitchen. It didn't take him long to doze off.

"Can you get the door?"

House woke up to Wilson's shouting from the kitchen. He looked around sleepily, trying to figure out how long he had slept. The knock on the door finally got his attention and he leaned forward to push himself up without putting too much weight on his right leg.

"Can't you even open the door?" Wilson sounded annoyed. He came out of the kitchen, but stopped when he saw House leaning on the sofa with touseled hair and obviously only half awake.

"I'll get it," he gave in and reached the door with a few quick steps.

House was still leaning on the edge of the sofa when Wilson carried the delivered boxes into the kitchen.

He sniffed as the smell of chicken spread through the room and his stomach rumbled loudly. He followed Wilson and the boxes, limping awkwardly without his cane.

"Dinner ready?" House asked casually. He tried to get a glimpse of the food that was still on the counter in various bowls.

"Just a few more minutes." Wilson reached across the counter for a spoon and started to fill the shrimp salad in small glass bowls. "Could you please open the wine." He paused his decorating and pushed a bottle towards House.

"Wine? What happened to good old beer?" House eyed the bottle suspiciously.

"We're having wine today. It's new year's eve and a brand new year is gonna start in a few hours, get a little festive."

"I can get festive with a beer," House protested, but opened the wine bottle nonetheless.

"Do you really think things will change just because we start counting at 01/01 and put up a new calendar?"

"Might be. You'll never know. It's a good time to change things and make plans for the new year." Wilson looked him square in the eyes and House held the gaze for a while.

"Nothing's ever gonna change," House said softly with a slightly sad undertone. He took the bottle and two glasses and left for the living room.

Wilson brought in the shrimp salad as starter. House was back on the sofa and although Wilson insisted on certain festive standards, he didn't mind eating on the sofa and watching a movie.

"Careful. Wet," House warned him before Wilson could sit down on the wet cushions.

Wilson decided not to ask why. He was still embarrassed about the last time the sofa was wet. He sat down a little closer to House and leaned back to eat his salad.

"That's pretty good," House admitted after a while, still chewing on one of the last shrimps.

"It's delicious," corrected Wilson, but he knew House would not openly agree. 'Pretty good' was about the best compliment House would make about his food.

After a while Wilson left with the empty plates and went to get the main course. Much to House's surprise he didn't return with the paper boxes they got from the delivery, but had placed the food neatly on plates.

"What is this all about?" House cocked his head to one side and looked up to Wilson who held the two plates with the steaming chicken. "Did I forget about your birthday?" He quickly scanned his brain for Wilson's birthday, then remembered that it would still be another two months until the party.

"Nothing. I already told you. It's new year's eve." Wilson put down the plates in front of them.

"Everything new and festive, I got it." House grumbled. "Maybe then you should take off the apron." He loosened the knot, pulled the strings open and tugged the apron over Wilson's head.

"Uhm, thanks," Wilson mumbled.

House watched him straighten is tie and shirt, wondering why Wilson had not changed into something more comfortable. He looked down his old Rolling Stones Shirt and faded jeans and suddenly felt a little underdressed. But underdressed for _what_? He asked himself.

The evening went without any arguing and Wilson was happy about the outcome. He had planned for this evening to be as pleasant as possible. For a moment he had thought he had spoiled it with his clumsiness and the spilled main course, but House seemed to be all happy with the Chinese food.

"Fortune cookie?" Wilson handed House a small curved cookie and opened his.

"Superstitious rubbish," House mumbled and put his back down on the table without opening it.

Wilson's cookie opened with a little crack and he pulled the small paper snippet out. _"When something important is going on, silence is a lie." _He read the fortune twice and then stuffed it into his pocket.

"Don't want to share your newly won wisdom with me," House mocked, but kept his eyes on the tv, taking another sip of wine from the glass he held in his hand.

"Superstitious rubbish." Wilson handed one half of the cookie to House and both took a bite from the crumbling halfs.

Wilson sunk a little deeper into the cushions. The food made him feel heavy and he felt the blood rush from his brain to his guts to help the digestion. He gave up following the movie that they had started and sleepily leaned against House's shoulder that was only an inch away. House did not protest and Wilson dozed off after a few minutes.

The explosion of some early fireworks woke Wilson up. He rubbed his eyes and noticed that House had been watching him. "What time is it?" suddenly afraid that he had missed the start of the new year he sat straight up.

"Relax, still fifteen minutes to go until the whole world changes," House grinned. "I would have woken you up when it's time for all wars to stop, criminal records to go blank and all bad in the world to cease."

"No. You wouldn't." Wilson got up and pulled out the champagne out of the fridge.

"Champagne?" House didn't look happy. "When is it finally time for a cold beer?" he whined.

"You agreed to have me choose the food and all," Wilson argued. He filled the glasses with the sparkling, light yellow liquid.

"I only agreed to that to make you happy. That didn't include you making me unhappy."

"Am I making you unhappy?" Wilson asked open mouthed. House had not seemed to be unhappy at all this evening.

"I want a beer," House kept on protesting. And Wilson knew that this was all House was unhappy about right now.

Another cracker exploded out in the dark as Wilson went back to the kitchen to get a beer for House. If it only took a beer to make the man happy for now, so be it.

In the living room House stood at the window, looking out over to the street that lead to the sports field where they would start the fireworks.

"What will these fireworks be for?" House asked and his breath drew a small foggy circle on the window.

Wilson shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know what House was on about and just waited for him to go on.

"Way before our time, they used fireworks to chase away evil spirits. Then tradition changed into showing joy about the new year. What are their evil spirits they want to escape and what joyful things are they expecting of the new year?"

"What are yours?" Wilson asked and pushed the bottle of beer into House's hand.

House did not answer.

Kids ran along the street towards the fireworks, writing blurred letters with their sparkers.

Wilson turned his wrist and looked at his watch. Almost time for a new year, a new start. Every year he hoped something would change, that he could wipe out the mistakes and unused chances of the past.

"Ten. Nine. Eight," Wilson whispered.

"What are you doing?" House voice sounded harsher than he had intended.

"Counting in the new year." Wilson still stared at his watch.

"Four. Three. Two."

Outside the fireworks started. Red, blue and green sparks lightened up the dark winter sky. Couples in the street lay in each other's arms, kissing and exchanging happy new year wishes.

Wilson didn't finish his countdown, but turned his face up to House, he grabbed and turned him by his shoulders and then pressed his lips on his friend's mouth.

"What the heck?" House finally recovered from his surprise after just a few seconds and pushed Wilson away, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and staring at Wilson furiously.

"I am sorry," Wilson mumbled and slowly backed away. He took a deep breath and tried to avoid the icy stare from House's eyes. "I really don't know what –"

"The hell you know!" House hissed. "You kissed me!"

"Listen, I am sorry." Wilson held both his hands up in defense. "Forget it. I didn't mean to." His voice faded and he dropped his hands again.

"Was that your idea of being _festive_ tonight?" House wiped his mouth again. "Playing Michaelangelo's angel?"

„No, that wasn't planned. I just planned to tell you I like you and …"

"Get out!" House said coldly and looked down to his feet.

"House."

"Get out!"

Wilson nodded silently and turned away. Close to tears he picked his car keys up from the table, snatched his coat from the coatrack and open the door.

"House," his voice was barely audible. " … Happy New Year."

The door fell shut with a quiet clicking sound behind him and the apartment was filled with emptiness again.

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	2. Chapter 2

**I have taken the second chapter of this story down. Sorry everyone!**

**This story was written as a one-shot and I really liked it as that.**

**I just haven't been happy about the second chapter and don't want to leave it up.**

**Everyone can make his own mind up how House and Wilson will deal with this situation. There sure is a story about that in my head and I might write a sequel to this. But that will be a longer story and needs some more thinking first.**

**So if you like this story and want to write a sequel, feel free to do so. I would love to read your idea. :)**

**Mel**


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